


Take me Home (To my Heart)

by NeroAnne



Category: Stranger Things (TV 2016)
Genre: Bottom!Jonathan, F/F, F/M, M/M, Robin is a bro to Steve, Steve and Jonathan are established, separated by moments, so many love, tender boys, the boys have feelings, they love each other so much and are too soft I swear, top!steve, what happened before the big battle at Starcourt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-09
Updated: 2019-07-09
Packaged: 2020-06-25 04:29:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,791
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19738330
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/NeroAnne/pseuds/NeroAnne
Summary: “They’re lucky that they are dead,” Steve said tightly, “If you and Nancy hadn’t clocked them out, they would wish they were dead because I would-”“Hey.”Those warm hands were on him again. One of them slid up the back of his neck, pulling his head down gently, while the other settled over his chest. Steve inhaled quickly, feeling that palm graze over his nipple, and he opened his eyes, staring down at Jonathan.Jonathan stared back up at him, frowning, “Don’t talk that way,” he murmured, “You’re better than that,” he arched up, gently pressed the tip of his nose against Steve’s.“You could be dead,” Steve stressed, gritting his teeth, “I could be dead. We would have left this world, Jonathan. I would have gone out without…without telling you how much I-” he sighed heavily, forehead dropping against the shorter male. His own palm landed over the hand Jonathan had over his chest and he moved them so that they settled over his beating heart.**Moments before the battle at Starcourt.Moments during the months after the battle.Scenes in the lives of two boys who love each other-completely.





	Take me Home (To my Heart)

**Author's Note:**

> why must everything I write be so long and so stupid.

“Have you ever been in love?”

The question catches him off guard. Steve stared at the arm he had balanced over his knee, his eyes still a bit fogged over but clearer than they’d been for the last few hours. The ugly colored tile behind his back feels cold even through the layers of his stupid sailor uniform, which was filthy and dotted with sweat, puke, and a fair bit of blood. 

“Steve?”

Her soft voice rang in his head and he sighed, lips slowly curling upwards. “The first time I thought I was in love was my senior year. Nancy Wheeler.” He heard Robin make an odd sound in the back of her throat. 

“Oh, my God. She’s such a priss.”

Steve hummed, “Turns out, not really.” Nancy had been just a bit high-maintenance but not in the way anyone expected. And truth be told, she deserved someone who would love her completely and he was never going to be that person for her. 

“Wait…you said you thought you had been in love with her? Are you still in love with Nancy? Were you ever?”

Steve closed his eyes briefly. “No.” he murmured finally. “The…the one after. That was who I was in love with. _Am_ in love with.” He grinned to himself, visions of dimpled smiles and warm palms, of soft lips and sweet sounds of pleasure. Of…of brown eyes filled with hurt…

Steve swallowed, thinking back just a few hours ago when he had been tortured. How they beat him so that he would talk, how scared he had been that they would ask questions with answers he didn’t want to give. And then, when they pumped him with that damn drug, how utterly terrified he felt that they would ask about the ones he cared for the most…the _one_ he _loved_ …

Before the interrogation, while walking down that long ass tunnel with Robin and the brats…he had suddenly felt such dread in his gut. Like…something was happening that was bad and that he wasn’t there to help.

‘ _Where are you now? Are you safe? Did they come for you? Are the kids with you? Are you safe? Are you **safe**_?’

“Who is she?” Robin whispered and Steve opened his eyes. He wasn’t sure, but this sounded like a leading question. The type of question someone interested would ask. Robin was a good person. She was ridiculously clever, super funny, and pretty. He liked being with her. He liked being her coworker and friend. 

She must have heard some of Dustin’s annoying tries at playing match-maker. Little shit never could whisper worth a damn. Now she was…now she was interested and he would have to tell her and he would lose a very, very good friend.

For the smallest moment, he considered just telling her from where he was sitting, his right arm draped messily over the toilet bowl. Then, he decided against it. If he was going to tell her, it would be to her face. She deserved that, at least. Licking his lips, Steve grabbed the bottom of the bathroom stall, sliding his legs through to the stall she occupied and then swinging his upper body over. 

“The floor is disgusting,” she murmured and he shrugged. 

“Well, I’ve already got puke and blood on me, doesn’t much matter.” He looked at her carefully and she stared back, blue eyes glassy as she looked him over. Her hand reached out to his face but didn’t touch.

“Does it hurt?”

“A lot,” he answered, but the pain had nothing to do with his bloody eye or the massacring of his face. “Your question,” he began, smiling a bit, “It’s going to open a huge can of worms here.”

Robin tilted her head, “Why? Is she…does she not love you back?”

“The opposite,” Steve replied, fisting his hands, “You see, this person…they don’t like many people. But love? When _he_ loves, he loves _completely_ and I…I am so lucky, Robin, because he chooses to love _me_.” He bit hard into his bottom lip, “And I…I’m such a fucking failure that I almost ruined that for myself.” He could feel his body trembling and his voice was shaky when he spoke again, “But I know that he still loves me and I am so scared, Robin, because I just have this horrible feeling in my stomach that he’s hurt and that he’s in danger and I _need_ for him to be okay. I need to see him and hold him and _love_ him the way I used to…the way I _always_ will.” A few tears slipped down his cheeks, the salty trail seeping into the broken skin on his face and making it hurt a bit.

Her breathing hitched, “He?”

Steve nodded, not looking up.

“So, you’re…you are-”

“Gay.” He said flatly, too pained, and too afraid to care.

Steve made the mistake of looking into her eyes. They were watering, her lips trembling. Robin inhaled shakily, firmly pressing her lips together and bringing a hand up to her forehead. Great. She was going to cry. She was going to go into hysterics, call him a fag, threaten to tell the entire town. Her shoulders quivering and he sighed, preparing himself for a harsh slap to his already stinging cheek-

Her giggles started off low but quickly grew louder. She laughed so hard that she doubled over, her head shaking, and Steve stared, confused and a bit worried. 

“Shit, the drug is still in your system,” he reached over, trying to position her over the toilet bowl, “Here, throw up some more, it should help.”

“Get off me, dingus,” she laughed, gently pushing his hands away. “I’m not drugged up anymore, I swear.”

“Then why are you laughing?” Steve demanded, “I’ve just told you that I’m gay and that I will never have feelings for you-”

“You arrogant _shit_ ,” Robin wailed, mirth shining in her gaze, “I will never have feelings for you either!” she snickered, flicking tears of giddiness out of her lashes, “Steve,” she began, smiling, “Do you remember what I said about Click’s class? About being jealous and obsessed?”

Sure, he’d been doped out but of course he remembered. Steve nodded, “Yeah.”

“It isn’t because I had a crush on you,” she said quietly, “It’s because…she wouldn’t stop staring at you.”

Steve furrowed his brows, shaking his head a bit, “Mrs. Click?”

Robin chuckled, looking away. “Tammy Thompson. I wanted her to look at _me._ But…she couldn’t pull her eyes away from you and your stupid hair.” She paused to glanced up at his brown locks, “And I didn’t understand, because you would get bagel crumbs all over the floor. And you asked dumb questions. And you were a douchebag. And-and you didn’t even like her and…I would go home and just scream into my pillow.”

Steve sat there, still confused. “But Tammy Thompson’s a girl.”

Robin snorted, staring at him directly in the eyes. “Steve.” She said his name so gently, so quietly. 

“Yeah?” he said back, trying really hard to get what she was saying. His damn head was killing him. Admittedly, he was thinking about…about…

She gave him a look. The emotion in her gaze, the water in her eyes, and the way her lips turned up into a self-deprecating smile. And then it hit him, furiously, a harder blow than any hit a damn Russian could ever hope to land. 

“Oh,” he said, softly.

“Oh,” she whispered, reaching out to place her hand on his knee. 

They shared a tentative smile. 

\--

Arms were around him from all angles and he laughed, ducking his head as he returned every single embrace. His kids were okay. His kids were _safe_. Eleven was injured, badly, but she was safe. 

Lucas, Max, Mike, Dustin, Erica, Eleven, Will, Nancy. They were all safe.

Nancy was embracing him tightly, eyes teary and make-up ruined, but smiling so lovingly up at him and he smiled back down at her. And then…

Steve raised his head from staring down at Nancy to see Jonathan standing still just a few steps away. He looked surprised at the addition of the new people, his eyes moving over Dustin, Erica, and Robin before…

Their eyes met instantly and Steve watched the fear and concern shadow that lovely, pale face. His body began to go through the motions it always went through at the sight of Jonathan Byers. The effect this boy had on him. The way Steve knew that he was _meant_ to be his. 

The goosebumps on the back of his neck, the tightening in his chest, the soft feeling of what could only be described as _love_ settling into his heart and warming the rest of his body. 

“God, Steve,” Jonathan breathed, moving towards him and Steve slowly released Nancy, moving to meet him half-way. Jonathan’s hands, those warm palms grazed over his cheeks and Steve’s eyes closed, willingly leaning down into that warmth. “W-what happened to you?” he whispered, voice catching and Steve opened his eyes to see tears stinging in Jonathan’s as they roamed over his ruined form, threatening to fall down his face. 

“It was nothing,” Steve murmured, his own hands coming up to cradle Jonathan’s, “It didn’t hurt. I…I thought of only you. Only you, Jonathan.” He reached out a hand to sweep back Jonathan’s fringe. There was a bad cut right on his brow, and his nose...his nose had surely been broken. “They touched you,” he murmured, furious, “I’ll fucking kill them.”

Jonathan swallowed, “Too late,” he whispered, lowering his head to rest it against Steve’s shoulder, “I…I already…” he trailed off and Steve bit back a curse, gently cupping the back of Jonathan’s neck as the younger teen began to shake. 

Damn it all, hadn’t he been through enough trauma? Wasn’t it enough that he had spent the last two years suriving a hell with all that happened and now? Now he had to live with the fact that he _killed_ someone?

The sound of a thump a few moments later alerted them both to Eleven’s collapse and immediately, they sprang apart to surround the little girl writhing in pain on the floor. Once she pointed out the reason for her agony, Jonathan reached over, squeezing his hand briefly, before darting away.

“Jonathan!” Steve cried out, alarmed.

“Keep her awake, Steve!” Jonathan shouted back, disappearing around the large bench in the middle of food court. 

Steve bit his bottom lip and then moved to his knees beside Eleven. Mike was behind her, supporting her head, while the rest of them were just speaking gently to her, trying to keep her from passing out. 

“Hey, hey, hey,” Steve said softly, gently reaching down to stroke her hair, “It’s okay, baby girl, you’ll be fine, you hear me? You’re so strong, El, so strong, just…” he swallowed, “Just keep being strong, okay?”

And when Jonathan came rushing back, a red-tinged knife, wooden spoon, and gloves in his hands, he knelt down in front of El’s legs, his eyes determined as he looked to Steve. “Hold her down,” he said tightly, “This will hurt her.”

Steve did his best, El struggling and screaming into the wooden spoon in between her teeth, as Jonathan cut into the infected wound on her leg. He watched the fear in Jonathan’s eyes and the trembling of his hand as he forced himself to shove his hand into the wound, his face in clear discomfort and worry as he tried in vain to tear whatever it was that was burrowed in El’s body.

\--

The soft fingers in his hair were a comfort. He’d just finished filling Jonathan in on what happened to him, Dustin, Erica, and Robin. He’d found out about the Mind Flayer and the clones once Hopper, some old guy with a balding spot at the top of his head, and Joyce Byers had found them. 

They were all taking a short moment to rest, his head pillowed on Jonathan’s lap. Damn, being awake for over 24 hours was such a bitch. A few feet away, Robin and Nancy were speaking quietly, and the kids were all gathered around a weakened Eleven. 

Joyce, Hopper, and the old guy were all talking over some sort of plan. 

“They drugged you,” Jonathan whispered from above him and Steve opened his eyes, staring up at him. “They could have…they could have gone after your family if they asked about them.”

Steve shook his head, “I was more worried they would ask me about you,” he said seriously, “I…I was terrified that they would ask me something that would make me say your name and that…that I’d put you in danger.”

Jonathan gently traced over the huge bruise on his eye. His lips slowly turned upwards, “Dustin told me you won a fight.”

Steve chuckled, “Yeah but the revenge wasn’t worth the win.” He noticed the way Jonathan was staring down at him, silent and sad, “Hey,” he murmured, “it’s not that bad, really. Sure, they knocked some of the pretty out of me but…but isn’t as bad as it looks.”

Jonathan didn’t laugh. “Steve,” he sighed, shaking his head, “I’m tired of seeing you hurt.”

“Right back at you, Byers,” Steve reached up a hand, laying it lightly on Jonathan’s cheek. The younger man still winced, his nose obviously sore, “What else happened to you?”

Jonathan shook his head, looking up at Hopper walked their way. “Later,” he said quietly. The chief stopped in front of them, frowning. 

“Harrington.” Hopper started, “I need you to do something.”

\--

He was on edge. Once Hopper had told him to drive Dustin and Erica up to where the signal for the walkie could be strong enough, he agreed but then Hopper had told him that Jonathan needed to stay behind so that he and Nancy could stay with the rest of the kids.

What followed was a rather ridiculous argument between him and the chief, one that only ended with Joyce scolding them both and Jonathan agreeing to stay with the kids in the mall, where it would be safe. 

Leaving Jonathan, or the kids, but especially _Jonathan_ , behind was not something that Steve did happily. He’d been a complete pill about it, bitching the entire time and swearing that if Dustin didn’t know what he was doing that he would just leave him up on this damn hill.

“Steve!” Dustin snapped, not taking his eyes away from the weird-looking device that he was fidgeting with, “You’re driving me nuts, just go sit down somewhere!” 

Erica made a small sound of agreement, her dark eyes staring daggers at Steve, “Well? Go sit your impatient ass down.”

“Bite me, brat,” Steve growled, but he walked away from the group anyway, sitting down heavily on some of the grass. He stared down at the town, looking at all the lights from his high perch. 

“You’re worried about Jonathan.”

He looked up, seeing Robin smiling down at him. 

“Can I sit?”

Steve shrugged, watching her settle down beside him. 

“Who’d have ever thought?” Robin said aloud, a curios expression on her face, “That _Jonathan Byers_ and Steve “The Hair” Harrington would be…”

He waited, glancing over at her.

“Soul mates.” Robin finished, her grin wide. 

Steve snorted, shaking his head, but smiling, “Yeah. Who would have thought.” They sat silently for a moment, listening to Dustin and Erica bicker about something or other. After a while, Robin spoke again. 

“So, what happened?” she inquired. “Why…why did you almost ruin what you had with him?”

“Because I’m an idiot who cares way too much about how people will treat me once they know I’m gay,” he told her bluntly, “Just a scared little idiot afraid of telling his perfect mom and dad that their only son is queer. I worried about such superficial shit…like what I would do for money if my parents cut me off,” he smiled bitterly, “You know that Jonathan’s been working since he was thirteen? His dad, real piece of shit that guy, fucked right off and left the bills and the mortgage and the debt to Joyce. Jonathan stepped up at such an early age. He took shitty under-the-table jobs until he turned fifteen and got a position as a waiter at the diner over on Randolph Lane.”

“He tried to help me get into college…he would stay up on the phone with me for hours, trying to help me study for damn entry exams. I failed every one of them; I don’t even know how I made it to graduation, really. Then, when my parents found out that I didn’t get into any college, my dad told me that I either got a job or moved out. Jonathan,” Steve shook his head, “He told me to come live with him. That his mom wouldn’t have a problem with it and I said some really stupid shit about how they could barely afford to feed themselves.”

Robin narrowed her eyes at him. 

“I didn’t mean it,” Steve sighed, “I was just scared. I’m so used to living a certain way that the thought of giving it all up, of having to work, freaked me out. The look on his face when I said that, Robin, fuck. That look on his beautiful face hurt me more than any beating ever could…and the reason why it hurt so bad, I know, was because _I_ was the reason behind it.”

“Steve,” Robin said gently but before she could say anything else, her head whipped out to stare ahead. 

Steve followed her gaze and was immediately on his feet. The lights in the Starcourt mall were flashing ominously. Flashing lights were never good sign in this fuck-hole of a town. It usually meant danger.

_Jonathan!_

\--

A hand slid up the small of his back, very gentle, but it still caused some pain. Jonathan winced a bit, eyes drifting shut as he remembered the absolute thrashing he had received from the clones of his former bosses. 

“I’m sorry,” he heard Steve say and then, more softly, “Come home with me tonight? Please?”

Jonathan turned his head to stare up at him, considering. After everything that had happened, his initial instinct was to be with his family, the way he always did. Poor El…had just lost her father. And his mother…

His eyes turned away from Steve briefly to seek her out. He found her sitting down with Will and Eleven on either side. She was speaking softly to El, her hand stroking the little girl’s hair. She seemed to sense his eyes because she looked up, staring over at them. 

She didn’t know that he knew about the moving papers he had found in the drawer in the living room a week ago. He found them by accident, really. He had been looking for some tape when he’d seen the vanilla folder. Figuring it was something to do with Will’s hospital papers; he had ignored it at the time, continuing to scavenge for the tape. 

His thumb had brushed against the edge of the folder, flipping it open just enough for him to see the documents and stunned, he stood there, staring down at the undeniable proof. His mother…was trying to leave Hawkins. She’d put their house up for sale. She had papers about real estate in Illinois…

Jonathan watched as his mother smiled sadly in his direction. She nodded to him, confirming his unasked question, before focusing her attention back to Eleven, who had buried her little face into Joyce’s shoulder. 

Looking up at Steve’s battered face, Jonathan smiled just a bit. “Okay.”

An hour later found him upstairs in Steve’s bathroom. His parents were gone. As usual. Steve had no idea where they were this time and truly didn’t care. Steve exhaled, clearly exhausted, as he pulled his ruined shirt over his head. 

Jonathan busied himself with drawing back the curtain and turning on the hot water. He bent down to put the stopper in the drain and hissed, his hand coming down to his lower back as pain flared up his spine. 

“Are you okay?”

Jonathan straightened tentatively, feeling Steve’s body come to settle against his back. “You know what sucks?” he said mildly, feeling Steve’s hands move to the front of his shirt, slowly unbuttoning, “Getting hit in the back with a stool after being flung into metal lockers…and then being flung into a file cabinet.” 

The shirt slipped down to his elbows, his back bared for Steve to see. 

\--

His back was _mangled_.

Steve stared at the ruined flesh, mottled black and blue. The discoloration nearly encompassed his entire back, some spots of his pale skin still visible underneath the dark markings, a macabre galaxy of brutal bruises.

The fury he felt couldn’t be explained. He could _taste_ the anger on his tongue, could feel it coursing through his body and making him feel strung out. His fists clenched and he shut his eyes, mentally reminding himself that Jonathan was safe now. He was safe. _They_ were safe. But even so-

“They’re lucky that they are dead,” Steve said tightly, “If you and Nancy hadn’t clocked them out, they would wish they were dead because I would-”

“Hey.”

Those warm hands were on him again. One of them slid up the back of his neck, pulling his head down gently, while the other settled over his chest. Steve inhaled quickly, feeling that palm graze over his nipple, and he opened his eyes, staring down at Jonathan. 

Jonathan stared back up at him, frowning, “Don’t talk that way,” he murmured, “You’re better than that,” he arched up, gently pressed the tip of his nose against Steve’s.

“You could be dead,” Steve stressed, gritting his teeth, “I could be dead. We would have left this world, Jonathan. I would have gone out without…without telling you how much I-” he sighed heavily, forehead dropping against the shorter male. His own palm landed over the hand Jonathan had over his chest and he moved them so that they settled over his beating heart.

They stood in their embrace for a while, staring at one another silently. Though he hadn’t continued his sentence, Steve had a feeling that Jonathan understood. 

\--

“Ouch, mother-”

Jonathan edged the cotton ball away from Steve’s swollen eye, grimacing in sympathy as Steve hissed, his fingers clenched tightly to his bedspread, “I’m sorry,” he murmured, “I know it stings but it needs to be cleaned.”

They’d showered together. Not for the first time but certainly the first in a while. Simply holding one another under the spray of the water, Steve had stroked Jonathan’s hair, letting the warm spray hit Jonathan’s back, soothing the bruises for a bit. 

Jonathan had washed Steve’s hair, mindful of his eye, and they continued that way. Being soft with one another, careful, patient, and loving. Steve was sitting on his bed now, Jonathan in between his parted knees trying to clean up his wounds. Both shirtless, just in boxers, Jonathan’s a pair of dark green he had borrowed and Steve’s a royal blue.

“Fucking Russian bastards,” Steve bit out, “Fucking government. Fucking giant monsters, fucking gates, fucking _Hawkins_.” He shook his head, “Why does it keep happening? Why is just more and more shit to deal with?”

Jonathan didn’t say anything at first, watching Steve carefully. Shaking his head, he brought the alcohol-soaked cotton back to the bruised eye. “Shh,” he consoled, “You should sleep, you’ve been through a lot these past two days.”

“Sleep with me.”

Jonathan arched a brow, and Steve held up his hands defensively. 

“Just sleeping, babe,” he said and the familiar word caused Jonathan’s heartbeat to quicken, “No offense, but I really don’t think I’ve got anything in me right now for more strenuous activity.”

They settled onto their sides on the bed. Steve had one knee settled in between both of Jonathan’s, his large hand stroking slow circles over Jonathan’s naked side. Jonathan gently traced his fingers over Steve’s jaw, remembering. Steve turned his head, kissing his fingertips, and Jonathan licked his lips when those dark eyes met his.

“I want to kiss you.”

Jonathan smiled, “Yeah?”

“Yeah.” Steve lazily smiled back, “Will you let me?”

“What happened to not having the strength for strenuous activity?”

“I can find some,” Steve murmured huskily and Jonathan was almost embarrassed by how quickly his lower half responded to the throaty promise, “Can I kiss you? Please?”

“You’ve never asked before,” Jonathan murmured, already moving closer, “Don’t start asking me now.” Their lips met easily, remembering. 

Remembering.

\--

The bowling alley was full of people, but that didn’t stop him from noticing. Steve smirked, watching the way Robin’s eyes drifted towards Nancy again. “Weren’t you calling her a priss a little while ago?”

The blonde girl jumped, whipping her head around to glare at him. “Shut up, you shit,” she groused, bending over to lace up her shoes. 

“Mm,” Steve hummed, his own eyes drifting to where Nancy was. His eyes easily found Jonathan, who was standing beside the brunette, kneeling down on one knee. He was lacing up Eleven’s shoes, smiling up at the little girl.

Fuck, it had been a hard few weeks. 

Eleven was coping as well as…as well as she could having lost her father. She had been taken in by the Byers, Joyce immediately integrating the girl as a part of her family. Steve was sure that they were finding comfort in one another; he could see the pain in Joyce. It reflected on her sons, after all. 

Jonathan’s back was healing nicely. The bruises were faded to yellow now and he sometimes leaned heavily on his right leg more than the left, but he was healing. His nose, Steve was thankful to find out, hadn’t been broken as he’d initially feared, simply fractured.

Steve’s eye was gradually becoming easier to see out of. He had to have Jonathan squeeze some gooey medication onto his water-line to speed up the healing and damn, it was irritating, but he could feel it working. His headaches were still coming on, but he found that having his nose buried in Jonathan’s neck, or head resting on the younger man’s lap made them bearable. 

When his parents had seen his ruined face, they’d been stunned. Asking questions that Steve bullshitted answers for. He kept his distance from them, thrilled any time they had to be away for business. Having them around less meant no prying into his life. 

Finding a new job with Robin had been a pain. Every place for the first few weeks would reject one of them and neither was willing to work without the other. Finally, Nellie’s Bowling Alley over on Cornwallis had given them both a job, same shift and all.

Steve watched Jonathan stand up, walking Eleven over to her lane. He whispered into her ear, and the little girl laughed, her head tossing back. Beside her, Mike was trying to roll a much too heavy ball down the lane, frowning when the ball only managed to nudge down a single pin. 

Jonathan left them to their game, his head slowly turning in Steve’s direction. He smiled shyly, slowly moving towards the backdoor of the bowling alley. Steve took his chance. 

“I’m going on my break,” Steve told Robin, who was busy pretending to not stare at Nancy as the girl was grabbing a bowling ball, “Pocket that tongue back into your mouth, Polly.”

Robin tossed a pen at him.

Steve crossed through the crowd of kids, high-fiving Will as he went past the small teen, the latter jumping up as he got a perfect strike, “That’s the way, baby Byers! Show them up!” he continued over to the backdoor, popping it open silently and darting out. 

Jonathan was waiting for him, leaning against the wall. His eyes were staring out at the parking, watching the setting sun. He looked sort of…whimsical. Sad, almost.

“Hey, beautiful.”

Jonathan didn’t seem to hear him, keeping his gaze straight ahead. He startled when Steve’s fingers grazed over his cheek.

“Are you okay?” Steve watched Jonathan’s head nod and he frowned, “No, you’re not.” He pulled Jonathan away from the wall, stealing his spot, and then put his hands steadily around Jonathan’s waist. He pulled the younger male closer to him, staring down into his melancholy expression. “What is it?”

Jonathan ducked his head, hiding in the hollow of Steve’s throat. He stood that way for a little while, leaning against Steve, his hands reaching up to fist the bowling uniform shirt. Steve stared at the sun, anxiety rolling through his body.

“Are your parent’s going to be home tonight?”

The question was so soft that he barely heard it. Steve tilted his head, nose pressing against Jonathan’s temple. 

“Yeah.”

Jonathan let out a small sigh. “My room then.” He lifted his head, arching up on his toes a little. He pressed his lips to the corner of Steve’s mouth. “I want you to fuck me.”

Steve blinked. Any other time, hearing that come from his lover’s mouth would set his cock to fatten in record time…but…

Jonathan didn’t look happy. At this point, he didn’t even look sad. He was just…void. What was happening? They’d been having sex regularly for the past month. It wasn’t every night, sure, because work was kicking both of their butts, but they’d been steady. And it was as hot and steamy and gorgeous and amazing as always. What was _happening_?

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong with you?” Steve asked and Jonathan’s eyes flickered. 

“Soon,” he promised, nodding once, “But I just want to have you tonight. Please.”

Steve licked his lips, glancing away for a few seconds. When he looked back into those hollow brown eyes, he plastered an extremely fake smirk onto his own face, “Baby, you never have to ask me for that.”

The look was so fake that the both of them leaned in for a kiss at the same time to avoid having it continue.

\--

Sex with Jonathan was…exhilarating. 

It was so much different than sex with Nancy. Or the girl from his freshman year. Or the one from junior year. Or the fifteen other nameless girls he had sex with that didn’t matter because none of them could hold a fucking _candle_ to how it felt fucking his boy. 

Currently, he was lying down on Jonathan’s bed, one hand fisted in the charcoal colored sheets and the other buried in Jonathan’s chestnut-blonde hair. He was trying his hardest not to make too much noise. It was nearing two in the morning and the rest of the family was sleeping. It wouldn’t be smart to make noise but it was a battle he was surely going to lose at some point. 

Jonathan was settled on the lower half of the bed, his warm palm wrapped around the wide base of Steve’s cock and his lips stretched over the head. He was slurping noisily, hand moving in _too fucking slow_ motions, tongue tracing the leaking slit and collecting droplets of precum.

“Fuuuu-” Steve bit his bottom lip hard, not surprised to taste blood soaking his tongue. He dragged a hand down his face, his thighs quivering as Jonathan’s palm twisted, “N-no, don’t you _dare_ ,” he warned, narrowing his eyes at Jonathan, who let the throbbing head pop out of his mouth, a low little laugh following. 

Steve grunted, reaching down. He grabbed Jonathan’s forearms, dragging him upwards. He adored the way Jonathan instinctively knew to wrap his legs around Steve’s waist, the way those arms swung over his shoulders. Steve sat up, exhaling as Jonathan’s cock rubbed against his own, closing his mouth over Jonathan’s parted lips and kissing away his soft moan. 

He pulled away when he felt Jonathan reach down, positioning the head of his cock against a tightly furled entrance, “Wait, I didn’t prep-”

Jonathan sunk down, a sharp sound escaping his throat and Steve panicked, reaching up a hand to slap over Jonathan’s mouth. “Christ, babe,” he hissed into Jonathan’s ear, “Fuck, you’re not prepared for-”

Jonathan pulled Steve’s hand away, panting hard, “I don’t fucking care,” he said tightly, already starting to grind his hips. Steve’s eyes fluttered shut, a low grunt falling from his own lips as Jonathan continued, “I want to feel it. I want to _remember_ it.”

Something tickled in the back of his mind. Jonathan’s words sounded ominous. Before he could think about it more, though, Jonathan rolled his hips and Steve’s eyes rolled to the back of his head. His fingers gripped the backs of Jonathan’s thighs and he lowered his mouth to suck on that pale throat.

This was one of his favorite positions with Jonathan. Usually, he was the one hovering over the younger male, pounding into him with bruises thrusts, but right now, the way Jonathan was just riding him so smoothly and hypnotically, it was the _best_ form of fucking he’d ever known. 

Jonathan’s hand moved to the back of his head, pulling him closer to his skin, and Steve parted his lips to bite down on that soft flesh. The sound that left Jonathan’s swollen mouth was sinful and Steve bit down again, harder. 

Their rhythm stayed consistent throughout, Jonathan slowly moving upwards and downwards, grinding down onto Steve until the older boy thought he would lose it each time, but it was still Jonathan who reeled him back in. 

Steve’s hand moved down to Jonathan’s hard cock, his fingertips gently stroking over the wet tip and he fisted the base, his thumb adding pressure to the flared head just enough so that the next time Jonathan sunk down, the combined stimulation would be his undoing. 

And it was. Just like Steve knew it would be. The tightening of Jonathan’s body around him and the sound that fell from his throat was enough for Steve to find his own release, his face buried in Jonathan’s shoulder as he released inside of his lover with a muffled moan.

They breathed in unison, still wrapped up in their embrace. He could feel Jonathan’s fingers comb through the hair at the nape of his neck and Steve glanced upwards. The younger male’s eyes were closed, his head tilted back just slightly and his lips parted just a bit as he inhaled deeply, a beautiful expression of fulfillment.

“I love you,” Steve murmured, his fingers gliding up Jonathan’s smooth back. He stared up into that blissed out face, but his words had a detrimental effect. Brown eyes opened, staring down at him unblinkingly. The skin beneath his fingers tensed, the muscles coiled, and Steve felt the shakes begin. Wait, what was-

Jonathan lifted away from him. With a soft hiss as his body let go of Steve’s cock, slowly sealing up again, he moved away from Steve quickly.

Alarmed, Steve stood up, “What’s wrong?” when Jonathan made for the door, Steve quickly waked over, slapping his palm against it and snapping it closed. He stared down at Jonathan, who was pale, and visibly upset, “Hey, what is-”

“I love you too.” Jonathan said, but his voice was breaking. Tears were filling his eyes, already making streaks down his cheeks, “I love you and it’s not fair. It’s _bullshit_.”

He’d heard that before. That time the pain didn’t compare to how much it hurt now, though. With her, it had been a bullet. Sharp, stinging, but fast. Now, now it was like he was being stabbed repeatedly, in different spots all over his body, finding the sensitive parts of him and annihilating them with devastating precision. Steve tried to reach for Jonathan, but the younger man turned away, his hands coming up to drag down his face. “Jonathan,” he whispered, scared to death, “What…don’t…”

“My mom sold the house,” Jonathan said flatly, his hands covering his eyes, shoulders shaking, “She sold the fucking house and we’re moving at the end of the month. We’re fucking leaving, Steve. _I’m_ leaving and I…” he hiccupped, unable to finish. 

Steve felt his heart drop. He stared at Jonathan’s quivering shoulders, staring at the faint bruises still marking his skin. He opened his mouth to say something but all that left him was a whimper. It was a pitiful sound, one that surprised even him, and Jonathan turned at once, his expression dismal. 

“I’m sorry,” he whispered and Steve stared, slowly shaking his head as tears blurred his vision. 

Nothing had ever felt worse than this. _Nothing_.

\--

The room seemed so much bigger now. 

He heard footsteps behind him and he turned back, seeing Nancy huddled near his opened door. Her hands were fisted in the material of her shirt, expression determined. Walking over to him, she trailed her thumb over his eyebrow, staring up at him seriously.

“He will show up.”

Jonathan closed his eyes tightly, turning away from her gentle fingers. “Please, Nancy,” he sighed warily, “Don’t…don’t give me hope.” He’d spoken to Steve last night, over the phone. Steve was meant to come over, but he ended up calling instead. 

Jonathan guessed it was just because Steve didn’t want to face their reality. Their sad, broken, utterly unfair reality. He couldn’t blame him. Not one bit.

Nancy’s blue eyes were red with tears, and she frowned, “I’m going to kill him,” she murmured. “I hate that he’s doing this to you.”

“Maybe its better this way,” Jonathan whispered, glancing around his suddenly empty room, “I don’t think I’ll be strong enough to keep it together if he were here.” They stood silently for a while, just staring out the curtain-less window of his room. 

“Jonathan!” his mother cried from outside. “Are you all set?”

Jonathan glanced at Nancy, seeing the anguish on her face, “Stop it, Wheeler,” he smiled, “You’re going to do amazing things one day, don’t let this ugly world see you cry.” He held his arms out to her, barely able to stop his own tears as she rushed into them, hugging him tight. 

Making their way outside, Jonathan watched as Will and Eleven said goodbye to their friends. It was really hard to see, especially when they were both engulfed in a huge group hug by small arms. 

It wasn’t long before each one of them was making their way over to him, offering hugs and sad smiles. Robin paused before she came up to him, unsure. Then, she reached out, her hand over his. 

“He loves you,” she said, blue eyes nothing but honest, “Steve. That dingus _loves_ you so much.”

Jonathan’s lips twitched, “Take care of them for me,” he told her simply, “Nancy and…and Steve. They’ll need a residential weirdo. I’ll leave you in charge of that.”

Robin laughed, glancing away, “I’ll wear the title proudly.” She sighed, “Good luck, Jonathan. And goodbye.”

Jonathan wished her the same, and finally turned to his mother.

“All set?” she asked, her eyes twinkling. He wanted to be bitter about how happy she was to be leaving but he couldn’t. His mother had been through more than he ever had and she…she deserved to be somewhere she felt safe. 

Before he could reply, the sound of footsteps, and the shock of long brown hair out of the corner of his eye had Jonathan turning his head, staring in disbelief at the sight of Steve Harrington tossing suitcases into the moving truck. 

“All set!” Steve confirmed, smiling at Jonathan, “Sorry it took so damn long, I had to walk. My dad vetoed my car when I told him I was saying fuck you the dynasty he built for me. I guess we’re just going to have to drive yours.” He looked to Will and Eleven, “You two, ride in the backseat. You can sing karaoke with us.”

“Steve,” Jonathan murmured, coming to stand beside the grinning boy, “I don’t…I don’t understand.”

“It’s really quite simple, babe,” Steve ignored the way Robin and Nancy were quickly becoming emotional and he completely flipped the bird at Dustin, who was snickering from his place besides the pack. “You offered me to live with you once,” he reminded Jonathan, who was staring at him with watery eyes and misty smile, “And I was too much of an idiot to jump up and grab onto that brass ring. That’s not going to slip me by this time, and I refuse to be without you. So.” He leaned down, pecking Jonathan’s lips, “Take me home, Byers.”

\--

**Author's Note:**

> This is canon, come @ me.


End file.
